


Our Book Bound By Love

by mewida



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bookstores, Bullying, High School, M/M, Private School
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-28 15:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2737799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mewida/pseuds/mewida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They met in a bookshop. Alfred, a regular public school boy who is obsessed with superheroes and comic books; and Arthur, an old-fashioned, private school boy who loves classics, fantasy, and poetry. An unlikely pair who might seem worlds apart with their differences but together they would create their own world and write their own story in a book bound by love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Eyes and Borderlines

I always go to this local bookshop after school to grab my favorite superhero comics. It's a favorite hobby of mine; reading about these awesome people with superpowers fighting evil villains and saving the day. I want to become a superhero too that's why I indulge myself in these stories and imagine that I am Captain America or Superman saving people from danger.

You might say that it's a really childish ambition to want to become a superhero, that I should focus more on real ambitions like becoming a doctor or a lawyer since I'm already in high school. I think it's boring, having a regular job and a regular life. I want to be different, to make a difference, and to be loved by everybody for my heroic deeds.

I guess I'm really still a child.

As I grabbed the newest issue of The Avengers comics and headed for the counter, I saw him there in the classics section of the bookshop.

He had emerald green eyes that looked curious as he scanned the titles of the books on the shelves; long, slender fingers that ran through the spines of the books; light blond hair and fair skin that made him look so surreal, like the sun. His most distinct features were his eyebrows. He had thick, prominent eyebrows.

He was wearing a uniform – black coat with a red tie. Private school kid. Must be rich. His black shoes were polished and shined and his uniform was so neatly ironed – almost no creases. And to think that school hours are over, he looked like he didn't even move the entire day.

I looked at my worn jeans and soiled sneakers. I felt like I shouldn't even be in the same room as him.

He pulled out a book and read the back cover. His eyebrows furrowed as he studied the summary. After a few seconds, he returned the book to its slot with a frown and a wrinkled nose and looked for another book.

Something about this guy made me really curious. What kind of guy is he? Just from the thirty seconds that I first saw him is enough to tell that he is a straight A student. I bet he has read all of Shakespeare's boring plays. I bet he writes ten pages for all of his essays with perfect grammar and big words. I bet he knows the spelling of every single word in the English language. And I bet I would be rich now if I had bet all that with one million dollars.

As I continued observing this guy, I wondered what sport he plays. Not football, his shoulders aren't that broad, his arms were slender, not an athletic build. His fingers were slender and didn't even have callouses, I noticed, when he ran his fingers through the bookshelves. He doesn't seem to be the type of guy who spends his time outdoors with activities that might damage his skin.

I suddenly realized that I had been staring at him for more time than was acceptable for a boy to stare at another boy, because he noticed and looked back at me, then I blinked stupidly in surprise, then he looked at my clothes, the comics I was holding, then looked away and turned his attention back to the classics section of the bookshop.

Okay, quite a snob, I thought. What more could you expect from a rich, private school kid? The way he even looked me up and down says that there's a borderline I couldn't cross. I almost imagined a glowing barrier suddenly materialize around him that I thought I might be burned if I came near.

Spot the difference: Me, a boy with an athletic body and slightly tanned skin, blond hair, blue eyes with glasses, wearing a bomber jacket, worn jeans and soiled sneakers. Reeks of sweat and deodorant. Him, a boy with a slender body and fair skin, blond hair, green eyes, wearing a black coat, red tie, and black slacks – all ironed perfectly. Black shoes, polished and shiny. Has the smell of expensive perfume. All clean, all proper.

More like spot the similarity, which is only our hair color, and his is even lighter!

He now carried one book in his hand, a thick, hardbound one with a black jacket. He continued to scan the bookshelves with such intensity that I wouldn't be surprised if he could set them on fire with his eyes.

I realized I was staring again so I pretended to look at books too. I also ran my fingers through the books, tapping them as if they were computer keys, and stealing a glance at him every now and then. I pulled one book, flipped through the pages without even reading the words, and returned it. I did it again with another book. And again.

What is it with him? I have never stayed in this bookshop for more than thirty minutes. I have never even bothered to stray away from the comics section. And now here I am, in the young adult section of the bookshop, stalking this strange boy I have never seen before, curious to know about him. I have never paid so much attention to every single detail of a boy ever before. Only a girl does that.

Then it hit me. I am now back in my world of superheroes. He is a rich kid, the type of person who is a favorite target for kidnapping by the evil villains. I imagined myself in a cape and a tight suit, fighting off his kidnappers, taking him away from the evil lair, and bringing him home safe and sound to his grand mansion.

He needs protection. From me. He needs my protection from all those who might try to harm him because of his wealth and status.

A book fell and hit my foot and that's when I came back to reality. Scratching my head, I saw that he was no longer in the classics section. I turned around, searching for him, and there he was on the cashier already paying for his books and the next moment he was out of the shop. I ran to the windows and saw him getting inside a car, well, not a limo, but definitely an expensive car. He was gone before I could even think of a way to introduce myself.

With a sigh, I paid for my comics, hoping that it might distract me later from thinking of that boy again. What made me think that he would need my protection? My overly heroic instincts kicked in again. How would he even react if I had tried to talk to him? Would he laugh at me or would he turn up his nose and ignore me completely?

I guess I was just stunned by his presence that gives off a royal-like aura. Or I'm just a snoop.

I really need to grow up.

Still, as I lay in bed while reading my new issue of The Avengers, I can't help but hope to see him again, maybe even become friends with him.

Of course, when I remembered how we are worlds apart with our differences, friendship is out of the question.


	2. Chapter 2

Today, I was not in my usual muddy sneakers, worn jeans and hoodie. Instead I was wearing a new polo shirt and a new decent pair of jeans. My sneakers were newly cleaned and my hair was neatly combed.

Earlier in the day my mom asked me to come over to my grandparents' house with her. She bought me the new shirt and jeans because she wanted me to look grown-up and presentable to her folks, complaining that I looked pitiful in my usual outfit.

It was a Sunday, and it was a good, sunny day. Our visit to my grandparents was actually fun. Grandma had baked my favorite cookies and we all ate and chatted while sitting in the backyard. Grandma has always kept the garden beautiful and well-trimmed, and the flowers were always blooming.

Apart from the slight awkwardness of having to kiss grandparents, Mom's chatter about my growth spurts, and Grandpa asking if I already have a girlfriend, it had been a good time for me. Of course, the attention was always focused on me, but I didn't mind because these were people who care about me. It was a good distraction from the everyday nightmare called high school.

When Mom and Grandma went into the kitchen to clean up the dishes, Grandpa and I had a private talk.

"So, Alfred. You're a freshman now, huh? How's high school? Anything you want to share to me?"

I thought about lying and telling him that it was awesome and I had lots of friends, but I figured he would know if I was faking a smile. So the truth it is.

"I hate it, Gramps. It sucks."

He patted my shoulder and gave an encouraging smile. "Ah, don't worry, Alfred. It's part of growing up. I know many people in high school are total jerks, but I know you'll survive it. You just stick with the right people and avoid the bad ones. I should know, because I went through it too."

"It's not that easy, you know. It's so much more complicated."

"I know it is, Alfred. It's not easy, but just remember to stay true to who you are. I might be making it sound easy, but put that in mind always. When I was young, I was just like you. I also wanted to be liked by people, but some of them were mean and told me that I was a loser and a weakling. I was miserable for a long time. But I never fought back with violence. I fought back with kindness."

"But… how do you fight back with kindness?" I scratched my head, confused.

"Well, if people are mean to you, you don't be mean to them. Smile at them, be nice to them. Fire when fought with fire creates more fire. You wouldn't want that."

I was still confused but I just agreed with him, thinking that I might eventually understand it. I told him about how the other boys don't want me to join them in a soccer game and how the girls would freak out if I started approaching them. The only few friends I have were in the same position as me, and we were called the geek club and were the butt of all jokes.

"I just want to be a hero, Gramps. I read about superheroes because I want to be like them. I want to be accepted by everyone and be everyone's friend. But some people just call me a weird geek and make fun of me."

"Oh, I know you will be a hero, Alfred. Though it's not the same kind of superheroes in your comic books. I know you're a hero to your mom because you're such a good son. You're a hero to your friends, to me and your grandma because you make us happy. And I know that one day, there will be someone whom you will be the hero of their life. Someone you will love and protect unconditionally. Just always be a good young man, always be nice to people, even if they aren't nice to you, and that is already such a heroic thing you can do."

In my grandpa's eyes I saw my reflection. A scared boy. Definitely not a hero.

"Tell you what, come upstairs with me to the attic, I'm going to give you something suitable for a hero."

"A cape?" I jokingly asked.

"No, but much better." Grandpa said with a smile.

The attic contained many things from Grandpa and Grandma's past. They were not the kind of people who threw old things away. Even if some of the things were broken, they were still kept in here. It was like their personal museum.

"Here," Grandpa approached a very old and huge chest. It must have not been opened for a quite a long time because he had difficulty in opening it. When he finally did, dust flew everywhere and we both coughed.

The chest was full of clothes. Grandpa took out some of them to look for something that was underneath. There were military uniforms, coats, suspenders, even Grandma's wedding dress, until he took out a thick, brown thing.

"Ah, yes. This," Grandpa said as he patted the dust off it. He held it out, and I saw that it was a jacket.

"Wow, this looks really cool, Grandpa!"

"Now, this is the symbol of my heroism. Remember my old picture downstairs with my fighter plane?"

"Yeah, the one where you won in the war and defeated the bad guys?"

"Yes, Alfred. All those who fought in the war were declared heroes for defending our country. I'm handing this over to you. Now, I hope you won't have to fight in a war like I did. But you have your own battles to fight in your life. So when you feel like you're about to give up, remember that there is someone who believes that you are a hero.

For that moment, nothing else mattered to me except my grandfather's words.

After our visit to my grandparents, Mom said that she needed to pick up some groceries. I decided to go to the bookshop to find something to spend with the money that Grandpa gave me.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry for the disturbance. But can you please take a moment to answer my survey? It won't be long, I assure you."

I looked up immediately because the voice was unlike the usual kind that I hear every day. It was foreign, distinguishable, and very pleasant to listen to.

Sure enough, the owner of the voice was very foreign and distinguishable because it was him. Private school boy.

"Sure!" I answered immediately, trying to mask the excitement in my voice.

He looked at me, the surprise evident in his widened green eyes. He did that thing again, the up and down look, as if not being able to believe that I was the same person he saw last time.

"Oh, well, thank you very much for cooperating with me. You see, this is for a school requirement." He handed me the survey sheet and a pen.

"Really? I hope the questions aren't that hard. I don't know if I could keep up with your advanced private school lessons."

"Oh no, don't worry, they're not school-related questions. They're personal questions and your info would be kept confidential."

"Oh, okay," I scribbled my name on top of the paper, even though it said that it is only optional to put your name. I wrote my complete name in big, capital letters so that it would stand out and he would remember it.

His survey had many questions, but here are a few of them:

A Survey for Bookshop Customers

Prepared by Arthur Kirkland, 10th Grade

Name (Optional): ALFRED F. JONES :)

Age: 15

Occupation: Student

How often do you go to the bookshop?

( ) Every day

(X) 4-6 days a week

( ) 2-3 days a week

( ) Once a week

( ) A few times a month

( ) Others (please specify) _

How much do you spend on books and other reading materials per visit?

(X) Less than $1.00

( ) $1.00-$5.00

( ) $5.01-$10.00

( ) $10.01 above

What kind of reading material do you spend most on?

( ) Books

( ) Magazines

( ) Newspapers

(X) Comic books

( ) Others (please specify) _ 

So that's his name, Arthur Kirkland. And he's in tenth grade. A year higher than me.

There was an awkward silence as I answered the survey. At first he stood beside me awkwardly, then he started pulling out books and skimming through them. I purposefully answered the survey slowly to steal glances from him every so often. I tried to show a cool and collected demeanor but inside I was giddy and excited. We have talked, we have actually talked! And now I know his name and what grade he is in. And I also found out that he is English, just judging by the accent.

All of the new information was overwhelming me that I jumped when he tapped my shoulder.

"Er, excuse me, sorry, but are you nearly done?"

"Yeah! Almost, just a sec!" Thinking about how in the world I would get to talk to him again, I scribbled my phone number beside my name. Part of me was saying that a rich kid like him would never call someone like me, but hey, you'll never know if you don't take chances!

"Here ya go!" I handed him the paper with a huge smile on my face.

"Ah, thank you so much," He gave a small smile that actually sent butterflies to my stomach. "Have a good day."

"Thanks, you too, Arthur!" I smiled, daring to call him by his name.

He looked surprised, and I swear I saw a faint blush on his cheeks when he glanced at my paper and saw the phone number I wrote there.

"W-well, ah, if you'll excuse me," he stammered and then he hurriedly looked for another person for his survey.

I saw him glance at me again, though, but I wasn't sure what his eyes were telling. Shock? Curiosity? Fear? But he quickly looked away again when he saw that I was also looking. And again, I swear that there was that blush on his cheeks.

As I walked out of the shop with a new limited edition Avengers book, I wondered if my bold stunt had scared him away. But still I was very happy, and there was this hopeful part of me that the two of us would still get a chance to talk again. Someday.


	3. Chapter 2: Big Change

_I couldn't get Arthur off my mind. I kept imagining his handsome face with the small smile and faint blush in his cheeks. I kept replaying the scene of our first conversation in the bookshop in my mind. I couldn't wait to see him again and talk to him again. I wanted to be his friend so badly._

_Part of me still doubted him because I remembered the first time I saw him, he had looked me up and down as if he was judging me. But then that smile goes back to my mind and I couldn't help smiling to myself. I don't know why, but something about him really makes me curious, makes me want to come closer._

_He had a sort of an arrogant air around himself, but maybe that's just kind of a defensive shell for him. I know there's something more to him. I know that he has a story. I don't know what or how, I just do. And I am determined to break his shell and get to know that guy in the shiny uniform who always lingered by the classics section of the bookshop. I wanted to be part of his story._

* * *

I was about to place my comic book in my locker when someone grabbed it from my hand.

"What's this, geek? Another one of your superhero fantasies?" A guy bigger than me was sneering at me menacingly.

I tried to grab it back but he tossed it to another guy who laughed at me.

"Ohhh, Captain America! Why do you like Captain America, geek? Do you think you can be like him, huh? Forget it, you're a loser. You're not strong to become a superhero." I was pushed harshly and my back slammed against the lockers.

"Please give it back," I said, remembering my grandpa's advice to be nice to my bullies.

"Oh, look, he's begging! Why, Jones? Do you love Captain America so much? That's it, right? You're so obsessed with him! You're in love with him! You're gay!"

"I knew it, you're a fag!"

"Just when I thought you couldn't be any more disgusting!"

They started cornering me and I tried to block out the harsh words being hurled at me. But they still pierced through and they hurt so much. The best I could do was try not to cry.

"Faggot! Faggot! Faggot!"

_Think about Grandpa. Think about Grandpa. Think about Grandpa._

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?!" A booming voice made the taunts stop.

I looked up and saw Principal Vargas standing in front of us, his arms crossed and his face showed anger, frustration, but none of surprise.

"Bullying! Right in front of my eyes! You two – in the office, NOW!" He pointed to the two bullies who now looked ashamed of themselves. "And please return that book to its owner."

Principal Vargas turned to me, "Are you alright, Alfred?"

I lied. "Yes, sir."

And I knew that he knew I was lying. He sighed.

"Alfred, being gay is nothing to be ashamed of."

My eyes widened. That was not what I expected to hear.

"No, sir! It's not about that! Also, I'm not gay, definitely not!"

"Oh, then what were the taunts about?"

"Ah, well, the usual. Me being a geek. My obsession with superheroes. They just, uh, invented the 'gay' part."

Principal Vargas let out a soft chuckle and patted my shoulder. "Ah, I see. Well, then. I'll give them the punishment they deserve. Don't you worry anymore. Next time someone bullies you again, just tell me, alright?"

"Yes, sir."

He had said this to me many times because of the countless I've been bullied at this school. I have never actually gone and told him that someone was bullying me because many times, I was lucky that he would catch it happening. I have a strong feeling that he walks around the campus searching for bullying incidents. I am so grateful to have a principal like him. He has saved me so many times. Still, there had also been times when I was not lucky, but let's not go there anymore.

"Okay then. Take care, Alfred, alright?"

"I will, sir. Thank you."

He continued on his way while I went to the bathroom. I locked myself inside a cubicle. I tried to stop it, but my tears just started pouring. How pathetic, how weak. Crying. What kind of a hero cries? But I cried and cried. I let it all out. Years of being taunted, insulted and bullied.  _This is the last time I will cry_ , I vowed.  _The last time_.

Saved again by someone else. They're right. I can't be a hero. Not if I can't defend myself. Not if I'm being picked on. Not if I'm not even respected. It was easy for my grandpa to tell me that I could be a hero because he was a hero. He was strong and brave. He was a soldier. I'm just a kid with silly, unrealistic dreams. I guess it's time to grow up and face reality. There are no superheroes in real life. They just exist in comic books and movies.

I'm tired of being bullied. I guess I have to give up this thing that I love so much to be accepted and respected.

I wiped my tears.  _Man up_ , I said to myself. This is the real word. It's a harsh reality. There's no time for stupid fantasies.

I thought of shoving my comic book into the trash bin, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I shoved it back inside my bag to decide what to do with it later when I get home.

"Alfred! There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Toris, my best friend, appeared when I stepped out of the bathroom.

"Hey, Toris! I was just about to head to the cafeteria. Let's have lunch!" I said, relieved that he was now with me. Even though he is also a favorite bullying target like me, I feel safer when I have a friend on my side.

"Alright, but I want to show you something first! I'm sure you'll be excited when you see it!" Toris looked really excited and giddy that I also felt the same excitement because we mostly have the same interests, so I'm sure that whatever it is, I'll be interested in it too.

"Quick, let's go to the lobby!" He took my hand and before I could say a word, he started dragging me across the hallways.

We arrived in the lobby, and he pointed to the bulletin board where many announcements were posted.

"Read this one, it says that there's a superhero cosplay contest to be held here in school in the next three months! Isn't that awesome! I'm sure you'd want to join! This is your dream, Alfred, to become a superhero! You'll be wearing an actual costume! Gosh, I'm so excited for you–"

"I'm not joining, Toris." I interrupted him.

"What? What did you say?" Toris asked and stared at me with a disbelieving look.

"I said, I'm not joining. I don't care about this superhero cosplay contest. It's stupid. In fact, I don't care about superheroes now." I said.

"Who ARE you? Alfred, you love superheroes! Every day, you wouldn't shut up about the newest issues of your comics. You always talked about The Avengers and Justice League! What – what happened to you?"

"I grew up, that's it. I don't need those silly stories anymore. They're for kids."

"You grew up? Since when? An hour ago? Let me guess, you've been bullied again."

"Can we not talk about that? Why don't we go and have our lunch now?"

Toris sighed and did not argue anymore. We walked to the cafeteria in silence. I felt guilty and I almost wanted to apologize for snapping at him, but I was firm in my decision to finally let go of my stupid obsession for superheroes. This was the only way for me to stop being bullied.

* * *

When I got home, I tore down all the posters in my room, removed my Superman bed sheets, my collection of action figures, comic books, and any other superhero merchandise, stuffed them all in cardboard boxes and took them in the attic. My room looked so empty afterwards. It didn't feel like my room anymore.

My mom knocked and went inside my room, bringing in my freshly laundered clothes.

"Oh, dear! Your room's changed!" she said, looking around her.

"Yeah, did a bit of cleaning," I replied and sorted through the clothes, segregating the superhero shirts from the ordinary ones.

"Well, I have to say that was such intense cleaning. This doesn't look like a young boy's room anymore."

"That was what I was aiming for," I said.

Mom looked at me for a long while and said, "You've grown up. You're not a little boy anymore. You're a young man now. Oh, how it took me a while to notice it." Saying that, she also looked older. I saw her wrinkles which I've never really noticed before.

I tried to smile for her. "It's okay, Mom. I'm still me. Just without the superhero obsession anymore."

"But I will miss that version of you, Alfred." She gripped my arms and stared at me as if she was willing me to transform back into my younger self. That little boy who dreamed about becoming a superhero.

"Well, I have to grow up, don't I?" I replied curtly and gently pushed her hands aside.

As I was putting the saved clothes into my closet, I saw the bomber jacket my grandpa gave to me. I haven't worn it yet. And I doubt that I ever will.

* * *

I was determined to join the football team. I'm actually good at football. I was athletic. But the football team won't let me join before because I was a geek.

Now I'm getting rid of my geek image. I just need to practice harder and soon enough they will accept me.

My usual routine changed. I didn't come to the bookshop anymore after school. I went to the school fields to train or straight home to practice until it was time for dinner.

But it was not just my routine that had changed. My relationships also did.

The football team started talking to me and joking with me. They even started inviting me to eat with them at lunch though I was still treated as an underdog. Still, I was becoming cooler and more popular until I wasn't being bullied anymore. It was making me really happy.

However, my friendship with Toris started to weaken because I barely have time for him anymore. Sometimes I would see him sitting alone in the cafeteria and I would feel sorry for him.

It was like I had transformed into a completely different person.

One night, after dinner, when it had been three weeks since my change, I was watching TV in the living room when the phone rang.

I picked it up with the automatic "Hello?"

"Good evening. Is this… Alfred Jones?"

I froze. That voice. It was Arthur. I had totally forgotten about him.

"Hey, Arthur! Yeah, it's me!" I did my best to sound cheerful.

"Oh, alright, then. Um…" "I just wanted to say, hello."

My heart was thumping. It was him. He called me. He actually called me.

"Ah! Haha, well, hello to you too, Arthur!" I couldn't help the smile that came.

"Sorry for the disturbance, but it's just that… I don't see you at the bookshop anymore."

Well…  _shit_. What happened to being determined to getting to know him, to trying to become his friend?

How could I forget this guy? This guy that I was so fascinated about? This guy that makes me so curious that made me stalk him in that bookshop?

I was so wrapped up in my obsession in becoming a cooler and more popular guy that I had forgotten about him and the way his smile and blush sent butterflies to my stomach. He used to be the one who always filled my thoughts.

And now with this one phone call it all rushed back to me like a tsunami, the emotions slapping me hard on the face.

What am I going to say to him now? What am I going to talk about? I don't come to the bookshop anymore because I don't read the superhero comics anymore.  _What now?_

"Hello? Are you still there?" his accented voice woke me up from my reverie.

"Sorry! I was just spacing out." I laughed nervously.  _I was nervous_.

"I need someone to talk to right now. Is it alright? I know we haven't really talked formally and it might be kind of creepy for someone who isn't your friend yet to call you but… right now, you're my only option."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. Arthur is asking me for help. He's asking to talk to me. I wrote my phone number that day hoping that he would call me and now that he did, it was still unbelievable. Miracles really do happen.

"Sure, Arthur! No problem! What do you wanna talk about?"

I was almost sure that the loud thumping of my heart could be heard over the other line.

"Anything."


End file.
